


Bending Lines

by friendofwords



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (yeah this is one of those not so great horse world things), ANGST IM WARNING YOU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use (not on people), F/F, Horse World shenanigans, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mutual Pining, Rated M for moreso these types of subjects tagged than sexy times, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, The Showjumping AU nobody asked for, both Adora and Catra have Issues, both idiots who dont realize the other wants them, eventually soft, friends to rivals to lovers, only implied sexy times, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendofwords/pseuds/friendofwords
Summary: Welcome to the hunter/jumper horse world, a setting that is oddly fitting for a dramatic best friends to enemies to lovers relationship.This is a tale of two childhood best friends, from pony riders, to junior equitation stars, who suddenly had both their worlds shattered on their last junior medal finals together---and then turned into rivals who wanted nothing to do with one another. Or...maybe it's a lot more complicated than that. ;)If you're here for an angsty ride, you're here for a good time :D
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 30





	1. feeling like I just lost a friend (hope you know it's not easy for me)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm a lifelong equestrian myself, and I'm just writing these two characters into this horse world kind of expecting people will just get what I'm saying--but don't worry, I also tried my best to avoid jargon, (except, yes, 'bending lines' are a type of jump line in a course lol) and the focus isn't too much on the specifics of the horse world, so I think anyone can read this and understand everything going on without any knowledge of this hunter/jumper stuff.
> 
> However, if you want, I did create a Pinterest board that is just like pictures of horses/horse shows so that you can get the 'aesthetic' and 'vibe' pictured in your mind if you want. 
> 
> Also, this fic is structured so that this first chapter is, in a way, more of a prologue. The following chapter will take place years after this incident--but don't worry, I'll include plenty of info, either in small glimpes or complete flashbacks to show what's been going on in that timeframe. There's a reason for the time jump and it will all make sense I promise. 
> 
> ***Here's the Pinterest Board link---> https://www.pinterest.com/LumosNox1992/horse-show-world/ 
> 
> ^^^That's all just if you want lol you don't have to obviously, just thought I'd give out helpful info if you just want some help visualizing. 
> 
> And a note on the M rating: There is not explicit Sex scenes in this, and it will just be make out--second base. The M is more so because well things will be implied, and also the nature of Shadow Weaver being a terrible person and doing terrible things to traumatize these two. 
> 
> Anyways! Welcome, buckle up for an angsty ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter takes a sharp turn in the angst direction, and no, I won't apologize. (but I'm sorry) 
> 
> Thank you to my friend katieitsmee for beta'ing this for me, even though she still hasn't watched she-ra lmao.

**Bending Lines**

* * *

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_In the Capital One Arena in the heart of downtown Washington D.C., top junior riders from around the country have worked all year to get their invitation to the prestigious finals. Even just to be here puts a spotlight on these young stars, for many go on to become professionals, and some even become International Grand Prix winners and Olympic Champions._

Pressure? Adora was used to that. She was expected to be the best, and to anyone you’d ask—she was. All of the Junior Equitation world knew her name, had heard it announced in countless wins. She was no stranger to the bright lights and hollow feeling of an empty ring, or the look of a scoreboard with her name lit up for all to see. 

But still, that adrenaline ran through her. And still, there was that small voice of doubt in her mind, telling her how perfect she had to be in order to make this work. A voice that sounded an awful lot like the trainer beside her, going over the course yet again, as if Adora really needed to hear it. 

Then, the announcer finally began. 

“Welcome to the final phase in the Washington International Horse Show Equitation Finals. Forty of the best junior riders in the country started their first phase here on Friday night and competed in their second phase yesterday. Now, the top ten are here for the final work-off, which the judges have asked the riders to swap horses to test their abilities further.”

Adora resisted the urge to glance behind her, to try and find her usual mount, a dark bay gelding named V, or “Victorious”, as his official name was, among the warm-up ring with a different rider. _‘He doesn’t like it if you use a crop,’_ Adora had told the shorter girl, Glimmer, as they led their horses to one another. Weaver had snapped at her, telling her not to give any tips. (Really? A tip? She was looking out for the horse.) But still, she whispered to Glimmer to tell her to make sure he had a sugar cube after their round—and to tell her good luck. The other girl smiled widely and said the same to her. 

V had acted oddly in the warm-up ring with Glimmer, bucking now and then and acting antsier than ever—so really, Adora was thankful she decided to give that ‘tip’. It’s not like she wanted Glimmer to get hurt, or V to end up hurting himself. 

It was always about the love of the horse first, that’s just how the sport was. 

So Adora took a deep breath, drawing it all out for a moment, then pet the horse’s chestnut neck beneath her. The gelding was sensitive but bold; he was like many of the sale horses she’d ridden over the years. 

Then, it was time.

“First in the ring for our final work-off phase is number 292, Adora Greyskull, an 18-year-old riding with Horde LLC. She’s on Glimmer Brightmoon’s mount, ‘Commander’. She’s no newbie to this ring or this final phase—but this will be her last chance to claim that WIHS Medal.” 

Adora pouted and let out a mumble, “Do they really have to announce that last part to everyone…”

“That’s your entrance, what are you waiting for, Adora?” Weaver stared her down from beside the entrance gate, arms crossed in her usual pep talk manner. At least, that’s what Adora saw it as. She just expected a lot from her, and it pushed her, it drove her, it’s why she was even here. 

So why was she suddenly freezing in stagefright?

“Come on, Adora,” a lazy, raspy voice came from behind her. “Hurry up so I can win.” 

Adora turned to face the rider behind her, grinning as she of course knew who it was. 

Catra was smirking, clearly teasing her in her usual style. She was on an unknown bay horse, having switched with some tall blonde girl. 

“Um, not if I win before _you_.” Adora narrowed her eyes, as a playful smile spread across her face.

Catra laughed, in that full-hearted way of hers, “That doesn’t make sense, you dummy. You just win or not.” 

Adora giggled, knowing there was no heat behind that insult. The nerves seemed to disappear; it was just her, a horse, her best friend beside her, and the ring of jumps before her. She could do this. This is what she loved, _of course_ , she could do this.

Then a sharp voice, the one they both learned to obey over the years, cut through the laughter.

“Adora. _Focus_.” Shadowweaver turned her glare to Catra.

Adora just smiled, feeling like that weight was lifted off her. “I’m fine. I’ve got this.”

Then she was off, entering the ring for her last chance at winning the _final_ Junior Equitation Final of her Junior riding career. But she was ready. She was born for this. And she was about to prove it.

* * *

Adora’s round was perfect, of course. Had even earned her a nod from Weaver as she made towards the endgate. So naturally, Weaver didn’t need to care too much about Catra’s round, which was honestly a blessing. It meant Catra would only receive a small raised eyebrow before she entered the ring, instead of some vaguely threatening speech.

No pressure. She wasn’t the star. 

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make sure everyone knew her name, regardless. Catra squared her shoulders, let that familiar calm wash over her, of just her, a horse, and ring of jumps—and a smiley blonde walking out of the ring towards her. 

“Good luck,” Adora beamed, their horses passing one another at the end gate. 

Catra couldn’t help the grin she gave in response before she could quickly wrap it up into a smirk. “Never had it, and don’t need it now.” She countered, in her usual deflecting manner.

But Adora just smirked and rolled her eyes, knowing her too well.

The speakers then vibrated, the announcers now calling Catra to the ring.

“And up next we have Catra…” There was that usual pause in her announcement, which at this point had worn out its joke really, but she couldn’t change her name now. “...Meow-Meow, an 18-year-old also riding for Horde LLC. She’s riding Perfuma Plumeria’s mount, ‘Flower Power’.”

“That’s my queue.” Catra took one deep breath, then pushed the horse forward—she’d been working for this her whole life too, whether anyone else seemed to notice or not. And maybe, she’d finally get to prove it.

***************

Catra felt good. She felt really good. She felt like she’d put in the best round of her life. She was back on her own horse, Masked Marauder, the little quirky strawberry roan mare she’d been allowed to show this year, and thankfully hadn’t had ripped away and sold out from under her, for once. And now they were walking back into the ring, with all ten other finalists, as they lined up in the middle to wait for their results.

The whole stadium went dark except for the lights right above the arena. Always the dramatics. Not that Catra minded.

“And now, it’s time to announce the results of this year’s Washington International Horse Show Junior Equitation Finals.”

Catra swallowed, then glanced at her best friend beside her, those deep blue eyes meeting hers. Adora gave a shaky frown that was probably supposed to be a smile, but, knowing Adora, she was in the middle of an anxiety meltdown. Catra gave a small reassuring look; slightly laughing at how the top junior rider in the nation could be so ridiculously oblivious to that very fact.

Well, Adora was oblivious about a lot of things.

“In 10th place, please give a round of applause to Glimmer Brightmoon.”

Applause broke out across the stands, as a slightly disgruntled girl with pink hair peeking out of her helmet walked forward from the line—on her way to stand for the photo op with the notoriously obnoxious Brightmoon group—was given her own ribbon and blanket around her horse. Catra had to hold back from the slight feeling of guilt… knowing that round with V wasn’t exactly Glimmer’s fault. But that wasn’t her problem.

The announcer continued, and Catra braced herself—waiting for her name to be next. But ninth went to some rich kid from the west coast… and eighth went to that Perfuma girl she’d switched horses with… seventh, still not her… sixth, not her… fifth… fourth… third… And suddenly, it was just her and Adora.

Catra couldn’t help the small jump in her heart; what if this time, it’d been enough? This time she’d be the one?

Catra took a deep breath, then looked over. Adora was giving her that wide smile, her eyes lighting up even as the arena lights danced around the ring. The music turned to something that made Catra’s heart skip a beat, feeling both hopeful and scared, a piece of her wanting Adora to have this, a piece of her fighting against that, saying no—it was _Catra’s_ turn. But as those bright eyes looked back at her, all she felt was a familiar ache, one that had nothing to do with whatever stupid placing she made. One that flashed moments of blushed glances and longing touches, one that she could never completely soothe or shove away. 

“We’re down to the top two young riders in the nation. Both deserve huge congratulations, and both will certainly be forces to be reckoned with in the coming years. But only one can be this year's winner.”

The announcer’s voice snapped Catra out of her momentary pitfall into a forbidden reverie. She quickly pulled her gaze away, to the stadium around her.

The atmosphere couldn’t be more awful. Catra was far too stubborn to completely give up hope, but she knew. Adora’s round was perfect. Just as perfect as she’d always been. 

“Our winner is: Adora Grayskull!”

Cheers broke out, while Catra was hit with a familiar disappointment. She wrapped it up in nonchalance, as she turned again to the girl beside her.

Adora’s eyes were wide, a smile as bright as the stars across her face. Catra hates how easy it is to be happy for her, how easy it is to smile back at her, even when part of her feels like she’d just been tossed down a garbage chute. Her last chance at winning against Adora in her junior career—gone. 

Adora walked forward to a crew holding out the range of glory trophies given to her—a ribbon and blanket like everyone else, hers being bright blue—and a medal to wrap around her neck. Catra was pulled away to be given her own awards but hardly felt like she’d won anything. She glanced back at Adora, the camera lights flashing, as Weaver stood with her, proud of her prodigy. 

Catra ground her teeth, not even noticing the flash going off for her own photo. 

Then, the announcer went off again, but Catra just heard the fuzzy jumble of applause and cheers, laughter and talking amongst the riders around her. Someone motioned for her to get in line behind Adora because it was time for the victory gallop. Adora’s Victory gallop.

Catra’s head feels fuzzy as they move in a hand gallop around the ring. The noise of the crowd drowned out by the eruption of far too many conflicting feelings bubbling up from inside. Catra tries to reel it in, to focus on the rhythm of the stride beneath her, just her, a horse, and her best friend before her. That was usually enough.

But the falling feeling was still there, the one that echoed in hurtful voices and memories. The red color of the ribbon on her horse’s bridle; reminding her she’d always only ever be second best. 

* * *

She did it. She _did it_. Adora was still in a blurry haze of joy and relief—she was expected to get this win after all, especially after the years of this particular medal always slipping from her grasp.

 _Finally,_ Weaver didn’t have that look of disappointment, _finally,_ she was free from this hanging over her head. And now she was here! She had the WIHS medal around her neck and she was walking side by side with her best friend and their horses back to the stable area.

She couldn’t help but be giddy, nearly dancing as they led their horses through the orange lantern-lit street, the random non-horse people walking downtown still seemed startled to see aisles of stalls and horses walking across sidewalks and closed off roads.

“You realize you’re skipping as you walk, right?” Catra’s low voice and soft chuckle came from her left. Adora let out a snort and a laugh in return.

“I just can’t believe it!” Adora started, “I thought I was cursed in this arena—Maclay I’ve won twice, the USEF medal years ago—but this one, nooo. Now finally—”

“Yep, it’s all yours.” Catra quietly interrupted, as she looked away.

Adora blinked, suddenly realizing Catra wasn’t her usual casual and cool self. 

Adora stopped, making Catra glance over at her. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Catra quickly rolled her eyes then walked forward once again. “Please, like I care. You know me, just along for the ride.” 

But Adora saw through that half smile. _Okay, new tactic._

Adora quickly shuffled over, wrapping her arm around Catra’s shoulders as they swayed down the aisle.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s really any difference in what we made in medal finals when we are Grand Prix riders.” Adora smiled wider as she thought of the two of them, maybe even both representing the States together one day—trading off wins, each getting to travel the world together, the new horses they’d meet— “Come on, we both know this equitation stuff is subjective anyway. If there was a different judge today—maybe it would’ve been you!” Adora shrugged, knowing that was honestly the reality of this part of the show world.

Catra gave her a soft smile, something there in her eyes that Adora wondered about, something that gave her a fluttery feeling. Something there that made Adora want to blurt out and ask just what that look meant, what this feeling meant—but she quickly pulled away, realizing they’d made it back to their stalls.

V started using her torso as a head scratching post as she went to take off his bridle. The big gelding let out a wide, stretching yawn after he dropped the bit, then huffed, before pawing at the ground. Evidently still in a mood. V wasn’t usually like this, he was more of a calm personality.

“You know, I don’t know if V really deserves a ton of sugar cubes—he was kind of, absolutely awful for Glimmer.” Adora chuckled, still reaching in her pocket to pull out the sugar cubes anyways. 

She went to start untacking his saddle, glancing over at Catra who was in the stall right beside her with Mask. (It was an odd name, yes—but with the funny stripe that went over her face, that went over her eyes, then only the side of her nose—it just made sense.)

“Well…” Catra began, her voice a little distant as she was bent over and already sponging off the mare’s legs, “Doesn’t that mean he was good then? He helped you out.”

Adora snorted, reaching her hands up V’s neck to give him that scratch he always loved. “V, were you being mischievous for me?” She teased, before kissing him on his nose.

He nodded as if he understood, making Adora burst out in a giggle. 

It _was_ odd, how he’d been so high strung, but horses were odd like that sometimes she supposed. She’d had plenty of days with horses randomly acting up. V just usually wasn’t one of those. He never was.

Adora frowned again. Then sighed, going over to take off her helmet and jacket to place in the tack room. 

“Do you think he might be… I don’t know, getting sick or something?” Adora called out, mind still on V as she was now pulling her dulled spurs off, placing them in the tack trunk. _Wait, that wasn’t her trunk_. She quickly went to grab them again, but they slipped further into the bottom of the box—Catra’s voice was mumbling something in response to Adora. As her hand wrapped around her spur, her face half planted into the side of the box, she hadn’t caught what she said. 

But her mind was immediately preoccupied with something else. Something in her hand. Something that was definitely not the spurs she dropped in the tack trunk.

“Uh…” Adora blinked, looking down at the syringe in her hand, “Catra?” She then quickly looked around, finding Catra frozen at the tack room entrance, her eyes on the syringe in Adora’s hand. 

“What… what is this?” Adora looked down at it again, confused, because what the absolute hell was a _syringe_ doing here? Syringes like this were only used for—

“Adora—don’t—don’t freak out—” Catra's nervous voice broke through her thoughts, and Adora snapped her attention back to Catra.

Catra… who didn’t look at all surprised by a random syringe in the barn show trunk. Weaver’s trunk. 

“Catra, what _is_ this?” She demanded, brows pinching closer together as she began to guess. 

Catra looked away, “She… Weaver…” She began to explain, but quickly got frustrated, as she huffed out an exasperated sigh, “You _really_ never noticed before, Adora?”

Adora’s face dropped. 

“... What? What are you talking about—this has happened _before_ ? And what even is this? Is it _drugs_?” Her voice was in a high pitched squeal at this point, but she couldn’t stop it—how could they—

“Shh! Adora—” Catra jumped forward, trying to reach for the syringe. Adora didn’t know why, but she yanked it away—she didn’t want this to just, go away, she didn’t want to hush, she just wanted an explanation. She gasped, as she saw a letter she hadn’t yet noticed.

“It says V—what— _what did she do to him_ ?” She was shaking, feeling that familiar flash of anger she’d always tried to harbor. The one that would rise up every time Weaver did something that just—just wasn't _right_ —that _hurt_ others—

“Would you be quiet! I don’t know!” Catra frantically yell-whispered back, her eyes a pleading look, as she let out a defeated sigh. “I mean… not exactly.”

Adora stood still for a moment, taking it all in, from the syringe in her hand to that look on Catra’s face.

“But, you knew that he was drugged.” Adora breathed, deflated. 

Catra’s face pleaded with her again. “What am I supposed to do, Adora? Tell Shadowweaver to fuck off again, and get my other arm broken!” Catra threw back at her, eyes wide, a flicker of fear crossing her face before anger replaced it. 

That horrible hollow feeling hit Adora, remembering that very incident, remembering every time Weaver had always pushed Catra down in every way she possibly could.

She looked away, not being able to handle this. Any of this. She placed the syringe back in the tack trunk, everything around her more silent than seemed possible in the middle of hundreds of horse stalls, in the middle of the street downtown in a major city.

Finally, she turned back to Catra, who’s mask of anger was still strapped across her face, her arms bracing her sides. 

Adora sighed, she knew this wasn’t her fault. She just… didn’t understand one thing.

“But, why didn’t you tell _me?_ ” Adora finally asked, eyes searching those mix of blue and hazel eyes.

Catra balked, throwing her hands up in the air in the most exasperated manner possible.

“I don’t know Adora, probably because you’d freak out and do something stupid!” Catra jabbed. 

Adora’s gaze then drifted away. Well, what _was_ she supposed to do now? Confront Weaver? What would that get her? Kicked out of her home, possibly. But… could she stand by someone who would do that to these horses she loved so much? And if V had been drugged, did she even deserve this win? 

Her insides turned, her mind racing far too quickly for her to catch up. She reeled it in, focusing on what she could do, right now.

And she realized… maybe there was something she could do, something that would make this right. 

Decided, she pinched her brow, then marched forward. 

“Oh no—what are you doing—” Catra’s panicked voice came from behind, her hand gripping at Adora’s shoulder but Adora quickly shrugged it off. 

“Something stupid.”

And with that, Catra didn’t follow her as she went off towards Brightmoon Farm’s stable area.

This _was_ really, really stupid, probably. But what choice did she have? How could she keep this from the very person this affected the most? The person who had to ride a horse on who knows what kind of drugs, and had their round turn into a complete disaster because of it?

Glimmer had to know, at the very least.

So that’s where Adora was off to, hardly realizing she’d already passed numerous aisles, her mind racing back to those burning questions that’d been bubbling up underneath.

Did she even deserve to make it here? Did she deserve any ribbon she’d ever won? Why did Weaver do this? Was it because she _knew_ Adora couldn’t win otherwise?

Adora felt dizzy, felt like her entire world had been ripped from her. She really wasn’t anything without Weaver, was she?

But before she could drop into total existential crisis—suddenly, she’d met her destination—she quite literally, ran right into it. Well, into her.

Adora looked up into startled violet-blue eyes, as Angella, the owner and head trainer of Brightmoon Farms—mother of Glimmer Brightmoon—stared back at her in surprise.

“Uh—” She stammered, vaguely remembering in those random overheard conversations at shows that Angella was technically royalty, in some distant way, “your majesty uh—”

The tall, regal looking woman raised her brow and a hand.

“Adora, please, that’s only meant for Queens. Is everything alright?” She frowned, those eyes searching over Adora. 

“Yeah,” Adora quickly responded, before shaking her head, “No—I mean—no, it’s not—” She raised her hand to her head, trying to get herself together.

She took a deep breath, then lowered her hand, looking back at the woman before her. Surprised to see a look of… concern?

“I need to tell you, to tell Glimmer—” She could feel her heart race again, her hand going to the medal still around her neck. “I don’t deserve this.”

Angella glanced at the medal, then furrowed her brow, “What are you talking about?”

A shimmer of bright pink hair abruptly popped into view.

“Mom—oh, uh, what’s going on?” Glimmer paused, looking between the two.

Adora took a deep breath, then stepped toward the shorter girl. Glimmer’s eyes widened as she no doubt took in Adora’s expression.

At least Adora supposed that was why, for now she felt tears falling down her face.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” she stumbled out, “I didn’t know it, but I should’ve—V was acting awful and hyper and that’s _not_ him and I _should have realized_ —”

She was shaking—but Angella’s hand was on her shoulder, a far too gentle look across her face.

“Adora, horses can be unpredictable, we all know that.” She attempted to comfort her, but Adora put her head in her hands again. Of course she wasn’t explaining this right.

“No, you don’t understand. V was _drugged_ ,” she finally got out.

Angella’s eyes went stern, staring back at Adora with an intensity that was only broken by Glimmer’s sudden shouting.

“You _what_? You drugged your horse?” Her face had turned surprisingly red, and Adora quickly shook her head.

“No! _No—_ I didn’t know!” She again attempted to explain—her face felt like it was breaking with how hard her brows were pinched. “But it doesn’t matter, this isn’t _right_ , and I’m so sorry.” 

She looked back at Glimmer, her eyes unwavering, trying to show her how much she meant it. 

It was a moment of awful silence before finally, the anger on Glimmer’s face faded to something else. Something sad.

“And I’m sorry they did that to your horse.” 

Adora blinked, not at all expecting a sorry in return. Why was she getting a sorry in return?

“He’s ok, I think… and I guess he’s not really mine,” Adora added, still wrapping her head around the fact that this conversation had turned an incredibly odd direction, “but… thanks.” 

Glimmer offered a small smile, as Angella sighed from beside her, a hand to her forehead.

Adora sighed, wanting to break the silence. Wanting the rest of this over with.

“We can go tell the judges, I don’t want—”

“No,” Angella’s sharp voice cut her off, and Adora couldn’t do anything but stare, frozen in confusion.

“... No?” 

Angella walked forward again.

“Adora,” she began, that steely, yet gentle gaze back in her eyes, “there are few honest people in this show world. I’d hate having one—who’s also one of our sport’s best young stars—be put on trial for every win she’s ever had, and jeopardize her career.”

Adora wasn’t sure, but she was probably wearing the stupidest look she’d ever had. Why did Angella care about what this would do to _her_? And shouldn’t she want some sort of punishment on Adora? None of this made any sense.

Angella placed a hand on Adora’s shoulder, gentle, as soft as the smile across her face.

“You have a bright future ahead of you Adora. In fact… I’ve been looking for an assistant rider. If you haven’t already accepted any offers, I’d be happy to have you ride for us.”

No, seriously, what the hell was going on...

“You… you’re offering me a job?” Adora asked, in more of an accusation than a question really. “After I just told you my horse was drugged and caused your daughter to have a terrible round?”

Glimmer crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “Listen, I think I rode a hyper deranged horse pretty damn well—”

Angella then rolled her eyes at Glimmer, who gave a sudden sheepish look.

“Sorry. _Dang_ well.” She murmured, before giving Adora a perky smile. “Besides, I’ve still got next year to take that medal for myself.” 

Glimmer and Angella kept their hopeful, kind gazes on Adora, evidently waiting for her to speak.

She didn’t know what to say. Suddenly feeling like all the whirlwind of emotions, some too deep to completely understand, were all too loud and confusing for her to speak at all. 

Angella offered the olive branch yet again. “Adora, would you like to become a rider for Brightmoon?”

Adora’s bright eyes jumped between the two once more. They were offering a chance she never expected, a way to make this right, and a way to ride for someone that… would do something like this, someone that so starkly contrasted everything she was used to. Someone that was starting to make her realize that perhaps a trainer wasn’t supposed to put her through everything she’d thought was just normal. 

Adora smiled, giving a nod and a small, “Yes,” even if a part of her was screaming no. Even if a part of her suddenly jumped to thought of blue and hazel eyes. 

* * *

Why. Why didn’t she stop her? Where had Adora even gone to? 

Catra kept pacing around the stalls, hoping to gods Adora came back soon—before Weaver showed up from her stupid ego-boosting celebration with the other trainers—and berating herself for not just yanking her back, and knocking some sense into her. If Adora seriously went to the judges… what did she think would happen? What did she expect to return to, other than Weaver yelling at them both, and possibly just throwing them around for fun? Before selling their horses, as some type of ‘lesson’.

_I only keep you around for business purposes; once you aren’t useful, you’re out the door._

Did Adora not have the same voice echoing in her mind? Probably not, Catra realized. Maybe Weaver had never actually told Adora that. Maybe it was only Catra she felt like giving her threats. 

But before she went further down that road of twisted jealousy—suddenly there she was, blonde ponytail bouncing as grey-blue eyes were focused on the ground she was marching across. 

“Adora!” Catra immediately called out, getting a startled look in response before she continued her march into the tack room which Catra quickly followed her into. 

“Where did you—what did you do?” Catra demanded, eyes jumping over Adora, who was currently shuffling through the room, putting her helmet bag on her back, stuffing her jacket into a bag.

“I spoke to Brightmoon.” Adora finally answered, her voice odd… almost, closed off.

Catra just pinched her brow, that wasn’t what she was expecting. “What? Why?”

Finally, those eyes met her own. That determined look still across them. “Because they deserved to know.”

 _“You told them?”_ Catra gasped, in quiet disbelief. “Seriously, how could you be so _stupid?”_ She didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly, but— _what the hell?_ Did Adora just want to throw everything away? 

“I wasn’t being stupid, I was doing the right thing,” Adora shoved back at her, before pushing past her side—bags still in hand, as she went towards V’s stall.

Catra just sighed, “So, what—did they go tell the judges now, or—” But then Catra abruptly frowned, finally noticing that everything Adora had was now strapped across her back.

“Wait—what’s going on?” Catra’s voice changed; confused, scared, as she looked over Adora. Adora, who was now hugging V around his neck, closing her eyes as her face finally broke into something sad. 

“I can’t stay here anymore, Catra.” Adora swallowed, eyes blinking open, piercing Catra to the spot, “Shadowweaver—the lies—the… I can’t trust anything about this place anymore.” 

Catra felt a hammering in her chest, her mind scattering in fear.

“I got offered a job… and I’m taking it.” Adora continued, her glistening eyes now back on Catra. 

That hammering went to a complete stop. 

“Wait— _you’re leaving_ ? You’re leaving _right now?_ ” Catra’s voice broke, as she tripped through emotions, flashes of panic, of pain, ones cutting too deep and too sudden to cover up with rage.

“I have to,” Adora whispered. Catra couldn’t take it, she turned away, trying to stop this alarm going off in her head. But Adora’s next words had the sirens blaring louder, “I’m going to get everything out of the trailer—”

Catra snatched Adora’s arm, stopping her from turning away.

“Look—just—listen,” Catra pleaded, not caring how pathetic she sounded, not when her mind felt like it was going into a pitfall. Not when all she could think about was Weaver coming back, finding out Adora had left. Not when she was already imagining days, alone, not having anyone other than Adora, ever in her life— “I know, I should’ve… done something when I found out too, but…” She attempted to explain, trying to get Adora to see she understood this was wrong, that Weaver and all of this was wrong, “But, Adora, we could change all this, here, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to _leave_.” 

She was practically begging now, and part of her hated it, but the part screaming at her how she couldn’t let Adora leave—was louder. Adora was everything. Adora was all she had, didn’t she know that? 

There’s a pause as Adora’s eyes shift between Catra’s, and for one hopelessly foolish moment, Catra thought Adora understood. Thought she would stay.

But then those eyes turned into that stubborn, determined way, as she pulled her arm away.

“You think Weaver would ever let that happen? That Hordak wants this place ran any differently?” Adora huffed in exasperation, “You should know better than anyone—”

Catra jumped at that, nearly snarling in response. “I _do_ know better than anyone! But that was never enough for you to—” But she stopped herself, not wanting to go there, not wanting to think of all those times Weaver had proven Catra was just an emotional and physical punching bag. Yet, Adora was _leaving Catra to that_ —“Fine. Fine!” She yelled now, that familiar fury finally coming to save her, “Go to your stupid new barn—freaking _Brightmoon_ of all places—”

Adora’s brows furrowed, “And what exactly do you have against Brightmoon? You know, they might offer you a job too—”

Catra cackled, of course Adora just thought the solution would be that simple. “No, they wouldn’t. They just want people who are like their precious princess; those who are perfect people-pleasers like _you_.” 

Adora’s face then shifted, echoing Catra’s anger.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Adora punched back, “Why are you angry at _me_?”

Catra’s lip curled, in an effort to hide the blurriness she felt in her eyes, “Because—” But she stopped, hating how hurt her voice sounded, hating everything about this. “Just—just leave all of this like it never mattered!” She finally yelled back, before ripping herself away, not daring to let Adora see one tear fall from her face. 

“Catra!” Adora’s frantic voice echoed from behind her, but Catra took off, too trapped, too lost in the ricocheted aches inside of her to turn back now. 

Catra wasn’t going to let Adora see one more second of her falling apart, not when clearly, she was the only one breaking, the only one who had thought, even with all the hell around them, they had everything they needed if they just had each other.

And now she had nothing. 

On the outskirts of the stable rows, she finally fell to her knees, holding herself as she prepared for whatever hell would come next. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now the story can begin,,, and no that wasn't the end of the angst lmao.
> 
> Kudos/Comments are greatly appreciated--and if there's anything at all about the horse world stuff that doesn't make sense, go ahead and ask!


	2. so you were never a saint, and i've loved in shades of wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! sorry for the 4 weeks of waiting--been busy with law school applications. 
> 
> If you'd like to know the vibe with this whole fic, just know I've been listening to Taylor Swift nonstop.
> 
> ***update: I added a couple of 'moodboards' that just hopefully give you the vibe of the showgrounds. This entire fic (the present day of the rest of the fic, anyways, not the flashbacks) takes place at this one horse show. It's a 12-week horse show lol so it makes sense, I promise. I tried to let the setting just flow naturally and hopefully find a right balance of not info dumping the setting but also giving you the context you need--and I figured having some visuals wouldn't hurt!

* * *

The first month was spent in silence; unanswered texts, separated by hundreds of miles, in a new room without _her_ to share with. Adora thought that would be the worst of it.

The first year apart proved to only give glimpses of teasing hope. When Catra would let her guard down for a moment in the warm-up rings, in passing by’s at horse show vendors—it was never the same. Anytime Adora offered a hand, offered for Catra to come join them at after-show dinners, or sit and watch Grand Prix’s—Catra drew the line. Every single time. 

Adora had thought maybe more time would fix things. But time was also pulling them farther apart. 

The second-year proved that was true. Adora had new inside jokes now, with Glimmer, with Bow—the Barn Manager who’d always been like Bightmoon’s own personal cheerleader—she’d even made new friends in the horse world. She had new experiences, new memories; ones Catra didn’t share. It didn’t make sense why she hated that so much, not after she made new friends—but it wasn’t the same. It was never the same. 

It was confusing. Why was it this complicated? Why couldn’t Adora just be happy with her new friends, and leave it at that? But also, why couldn’t they all be friends? Why couldn’t this be that simple?

And why didn’t Catra want that?

At the end of that second year, on that night of both her and Catra’s first Grand Prix—that night when the worst of her memories would be made—was the moment that Adora realized nothing she did would ever be enough. It was a night of spear thrown words and lacerated feelings. A night Adora doesn’t like to recall.

So Catra wasn’t a part of her life anymore. And never would be. Adora had been given countless incredible opportunities being with Brightmoon, so really, why should she care about her anymore? And after that night, Adora frankly didn’t know why she’d been trying for so long. 

But new opportunities for new futures were always on the horizon. Shortly after that debut Grand Prix, Adora accepted a chance to train with the international Grand Prix star, Mara Hope, and to travel alongside her in Europe for a year. 

And now, Adora Greyskull’s Horde LLC roots were nearly forgotten by the show world, with her time with Brightmoon and her time abroad. She could compete against the best and biggest names in the toughest classes, the toughest courses. She was becoming everything she’d been told she was born to be. 

It was a good future, a good present to live in. Even if at times, the past didn’t seem so far away. Even if a deep part of her wondered what it would be like if those blue and topaz touched eyes followed her own. If those freckles and grainy laughs weren’t stuck in sacred locked away memories, but here. With her now. 

But that worst memory reminded her, in a harsh slap with unfair clarity, Catra had chosen her path. And Adora had chosen hers. 

****************

The sense of excitement in the air, the sound of hoofbeats in freshly grated dirt, the oddly comforting smell of horsehair and cleaned leather; it was a horse show morning. The best kind of morning. Even if Adora had only four hours of sleep, which wasn't highly unusual. No, what was unusual was she was _here,_ back in the States, after being gone for an entire year traveling across Europe. It was quite literally her first day back, which probably explained why she was still half asleep, with a hat over her face, while Glimmer steered the golf cart around the paths of Palm Beach International Equestrian Center. 

“... Adora?” Glimmer’s voice suddenly got louder, “Adora, did you hear what I just said?”

“Huh?” Adora quickly blinked, peeking out from under her hat—evidently she’d missed their whole drive over to the warm-up ring. 

Glimmer huffed, then rudely snatched the hat off Adora’s face.

“Sunlight—no—back give it back—” Adora groaned, slapping her hands aimlessly at her best friend, but even in her sleepy haze she couldn’t help but giggle as Glimmer shoved her back.

“I’ve never seen you groggy in the morning. What, no seven am starts in the Netherlands?” Glimmer teased.

“Ha, it was more like four am starts.” Even if, in some ways, her time with Mara had calmed down the whole *always have to be on and going nonstop* thing, it was also a lot of work, it was just the nature of things. 

Adora sighed, thinking about how she’d just said goodbye to Mara less than twenty-four hours ago, and suddenly wishing they weren’t world’s apart. And, wishing that she had the ability to sleep on a plane.

“Also, in case you forgot, I just got off a plane five hours ago.” Adora arched a brow, “And I don’t remember you being this chipper, even at ten am.”

Adora got another shove for that jab, but Glimmer returned Adora’s hat with a soft chuckle.

“Okay okay so, what were you saying?” Adora asked through a yawn.

“I—” Glimmer began, but suddenly paused, before something else caught her attention. “FROSTA! _No jumping until I say so_!”

Adora nearly fell out of her seat; Glimmer could really get that high pitched yell going when she wanted to. 

Frosta huffed from the back of her mount, “I was just doing a couple of warm-up jumps—”

“That doesn’t—it’s _all_ warm-up jumps! You’re in the warm-up ring! And _I’m_ training you,” Glimmer yelled out, exasperated. 

Adora couldn’t help but chuckle, “She didn’t change much, huh?”

Glimmer, in her light blue schooling pants and purple shirt for the day, then jumped out of the cart—not without a haughty huff and an eye roll herself.

“Oh, she did. She got even more infuriatingly independent.”

Adora opened her mouth to point out the obvious comparison—but quickly scratched that idea. So instead she just smiled after Glimmer, before she looked out at the showgrounds before her. 

Palm Beach. The Winter Equestrian Festival. WEF. It was _the_ big show circuit in the United States and the start of the show year. (Not that there really was an offseason, unless you count a few weeks in December). Sure, there were bigger, more important shows—Adora had competed in them—but WEF was special. In the States, it meant the entire northeast show circuit barns were here (and some barns from the west, if they wanted to make that trip). For twelve weeks, escaping the harsh snow and trading it in for 60-degree weather and sunshine. It meant twelve weeks of competing against the top show barns and their top, most ‘supported’ (financially) riders, which meant competing against top dollar horses and top dollar training. 

It also was the show circuit she’d been going to ever since she was fifteen years old. The first time she’d stepped into the ‘BigEq’ ring, finding a new spotlight and new attention from her pony rider days—to suddenly becoming a junior equation star—all in one circuit. That’s what many of these kids would be experiencing now this first week—Frosta being one of them. 

Adora stared out at the warm-up ring, as those memories of her junior riding days flashed before her. It wasn’t that long ago, she realized, but it seemed like a lifetime. She hadn’t thought about those days for a while, not with the whirlwind that had been her life ever since she’d left those days behind. And as glimpses of scared first moments in the ‘big’ ring, and a pair of mismatched eyes being there to comfort her, she remembered why these memories were normally locked away.

“Good morning,” Angella’s voice broke through her trance, perhaps a bit too suddenly, as Adora jumped into the roof of the golf cart.

“Morning,” Adora sheepishly rubbed her head, before standing up—a bit wobbly—from the cart.

Angella was clearly holding back a laugh but quickly wrapped it into a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again, Adora.” 

“You too,” Adora grinned, wishing she could say more at the moment. This was the woman who had basically picked her up out of a tragic backstory—the one she hadn’t even really fully realized she’d had—and gave her this life, after all. 

“Sorry for the lack of a real break on your return, by the way,” Angella continued, “but I expect to hear all about your time with Mara soon.” 

Adora grinned, “Of course, it was amazing—I seriously can’t thank you enough for setting all that up for me.” Adora gave her the most sincere look she could, “And if you need me today—”

Angella held up her hand, in that usual way to calm Adora down, “Adora, rest, that’s all I need from you today.” 

Then, after a warm pause, Angella pulled Adora into a hug. 

“Welcome home.”

She should be used to this by now—and yet, Adora just never was. But she hugged back anyways, letting herself be grateful for this, instead of undeserving. Two things she’d often mixed together—but something Mara helped her realize didn’t mean the same thing. 

“Aw, a best barn squad hug? Without me?” 

Adora laughed at Bow’s voice, turning to face him and his wide smile, “What are you waiting for then?”

Bow did his little excited face, then jumped into their hug, as both Angella and Adora chuckled. 

Angella pulled back, at the sound of a yelling Glimmer in the ring. “It seems I need to go see that Glimmer doesn’t kill Frosta. Or the other way around.” 

With a quick nod and another smile, she was off to the center of the ring, clearing the way as she went as if she was walking through on her way to a throne. 

“So,” Bow turned to her, that Brightmoon logo standing out on both his polo and hat, “How was Europe?”

Adora rolled her eyes, “Bow we face timed every day.” Seriously. Every day. Every morning. Every night. It was always her, Glimmer, and Bow, even with their group chat throughout the day too. 

“Yeah well, but not every moment!” Bow seemed, somehow, offended. 

But Adora just shrugged, “Really I was just… you know, riding.” Which was true, but then again, maybe not entirely true. There were some things she held back. Feelings, she realized, she hadn’t really ever talked about, that she suddenly had talked about around Mara. And somehow, now everything in her just felt… different. She felt different. But how was she supposed to get him caught up on all _that_ in one conversation?

“Well,” Bow continued on, evidently knowing Adora wasn’t going to say more, “Speaking of riding—Swiftwind and Destiny are out of quarantine, all clear! We’ll move them back to our barn area today.” 

Adora perked up at that, “Really? They’ve cleared already?” She grinned, excited to see her two horses she’d grown so close to over the last year. She couldn’t believe she’d been given enough sponsors, and won enough prize money to actually make the purchase on her own for Destiny—and Swiftwind, well, he was a gift from Mara. Another one of those ‘do I really deserve all this’ feelings popped up but, she tried to remember to shove that aside. 

“I seriously can’t believe we have two Internationally ranked Grand Prix horses with us now.” Bow’s eyes widened, always excited for the barn to get higher rankings—and new sponsors. 

“And an internationally ranked rider.” Adora winked.

Bow laughed, “There’s that confident Adora we all love so much.”

Adora just chuckled, knowing she had a stupid cocky grin on her face. But knowing Bow actually did love it.

But that smile quickly faltered.

A voice caught her attention, one she would always recognize it seemed, no matter how long it’d been.

“Start with your normal flatwork, get them flexible before you two say you’re ready to jump.” 

Adora’s eyes jumped to the right of her, where not but forty feet from her, was Catra—Catra, with surprisingly short hair, not the unruly wild mess it always used to be—walking alongside Scorpia, Horde LLC’s Assistant Trainer, and a couple of junior riders on their mounts.

Everything in Adora screeched to a halt. A siren blasted in her head, warning her not to go near. Warning her she wasn’t welcome. So she darted away, walking off to—to who knows where, she just had to _leave_ , now—

“...Adora?” Bow called out to her, but she didn’t look back.

“I just—I need to walk around, get my jet lag gone you know.” She struggled to respond, hoping her voice hadn’t called any attention.

She just had to get out of there. She wasn’t ready. She _so clearly_ wasn't ready. Even over a year later, that last night Adora had seen Catra, that night when Adora should’ve been celebrating her first Grand Prix win—she’d spent feeling like everything in her had broken in half.

A small echo of that memory dared to break through, that voice still haunting her. 

_“...all of this is your fault… I don’t want to be your friend, I don’t want to be your anything...”_

Adora tightened her eyes, determined not to hear the rest of what that voice would say.

* * *

Would she ever get used to early mornings? Probably not, if she still wasn’t used to them after every single day of her life.

Catra sighed, then pulled her sunglasses down over her face. Too bright. 

“I tell ya,” Scorpia’s much, _much_ too sunshiney voice piped up from beside her, “these early warm January mornings are so much better than uh, the freezing ones.”

Catra huffed, “That’s why we all come down here, Scorpia.” 

“I know!” Catra almost slid from the arena railing she was leaning on, Scorpia’s excitement could really be louder than necessary. “And isn’t that amazing when you think about it? The entire east coast show circuit—well anyone from anywhere really—is here in one place for the winter, it’s just like a huge party! These next twelve weeks are going to be nothing but fun in the sun.”

Catra bit her lip, holding back a short comment to her, knowing Scorpia didn’t deserve it. _She’s just happy, that’s fine, people can be happy_. Even if it annoyed the hell out of her at times. But after this past year, after… everything being different, after more than one absence in her life, she thought maybe yelling at who was supposed to be one of her only friends was just… not what she wanted to do. Anymore, anyway.

So, she looked down to her phone, over the schedule for the day. They had two juniors doing a simple open 3’6 class, just to get them in the ring once before the weekend, and then Catra had to show a hunter later on, and a four-year-old young horse in the little level 2 jumpers. Then there was the hell of the rest of the week and weekend, where Catra had maybe ten horses to show, and fifteen riders to train—all of their best junior riders and amateurs had decided to make the Florida migration this year, which was great for business… but, _a lot_ for being a new Head Trainer. 

Well, she had almost a year under her belt now, she could handle this. This is what she wanted, after all.

As she looked up across the warm-up ring, she spotted that pink hair and angry tone; the high and mighty Glimmer Brightmoon, evidently her whole ‘wannabe trainer’ thing was still happening. 

Nope. Not handling _that_ right now. 

“You know what, it’s too early for me to be near the Brightmoon crew without coffee.” She began to turn away, “Just, take care of them, Scorpia?” 

“Oh, you want me to train our two best junior stars? On show day?”

Catra paused, looking over Scorpia. At her wide eyes and shuffling hands. Damn it, she didn’t mean to make her nervous—didn’t Scorpia know she was more than capable of this? 

Catra pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, looking back at her friend. “It’s just a warm-up day for them, Scorpia.” She shrugged, but then Scorpia gave her that sparkling smile, and Catra felt heat hit her cheeks. She didn’t like it when she looked at her like that, like she _knew_ Catra was being nice. 

“Come on, you’ve trained them on your own before, this really isn’t a big deal.” Catra rolled her eyes as she marched off. 

“Okay!” Scorpia’s voice called out from behind her, “We’ve got this—you’ve got this! You two ready to show what you’ve got?”

Catra grinned to herself. Actually, Scorpia was probably better suited to training the kids than anyone. Definitely better suited than herself. She never knew really how to balance pushing them and not… well, making them feel like shit. Not something she wanted to pass on. Maybe she’d put Scorpia in charge of the junior riders this circuit, or they could at least switch off. Catra could be there to give them all the skill training; Scorpia could be their personal cheerleader. A ‘team effort’, as Scorpia called it.

This past year had been… a learning curve, to say the least. It was incredible—no, it was the best thing that ever happened to her, that night Weaver had been fired and banned from being a trainer—in the States at least—ever again. Weaver had no control over her anymore. And Catra wasn’t sorry for it, for being the one that got her turned in, being the one that called Hordak’s attention to it, and got him to see that firing her was the best thing he could do for the barn. But… it’s not exactly like Weaver had really been training her to take over the place; actually it’d been the exact opposite. She had to figure out all this on her own. 

In turn, she had to figure out she couldn’t do this all on her own. Scorpia, and Entrapta—their barn manager—had been incredible help with that. As much as Catra hated it, at first. Still hated it, at times. But she was learning. She was trying. 

Catra had plenty ‘horse sense’ at this point in her life to walk around the showgrounds staring at her phone—knowing to move when she heard that four-beat pattern of a walk in the dirt, and had been going to this circuit for the past six or seven years of her life, so she knew where that coffee stand was by heart. She still hadn’t even looked up when she walked under the tent cover.

But at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in a year, Catra froze in her tracks.

“Can I get a latte with an extra shot of espresso? Oh and can you put two pumps of vanilla and chocolate in it?”

Catra’s heart skipped a beat; knowing _exactly_ who would be ordering that ridiculous concoction—and looked up, to see _her_ , Adora, in that typical white riding shirt and tan schooling pants, standing facing away from her. 

First, confusion hit, as flashes of various social media posts and articles jumped out in her mind, all of Adora, of her traveling, competing and winning nearly every damn Grand Prix in the European circuit. But she was here. Right in front of her.

And then the fear, the hurt, the regret hit her even harder, as flashes of memories ripped through her. 

Before she could even process or think of what to do—Adora, her blonde ponytail swishing, turned away from the stand—those deep grey-blue eyes locked on hers. 

It was overwhelming. The pain, the infuriating spark of joy that erupted inside her. Catra couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as Adora’s face shifted in panic—and as Adora’s coffee went falling, crashing, and splashing into the dirt. 

Evidently a pin drop couldn’t suffice. 

Adora scrambled to the ground, diverting her gaze as she went to pick up the mess. The mess that Catra couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible for. Really? Guilt? That's the emotion she’d finally settled on? Catra sighed, knowing it was deserved.

Catra quickly stepped to the coffee stand, asking for another double-vanilla-chocolate-espresso-latte.

It only took a quick moment, for Adora was just finishing wiping off the last of the mess on her boots, when Catra walked over to her. 

Those hesitant blue eyes met hers again, but this time Catra outstretched her arm. 

Adora pinched her brow, blinking incredulously as she reached for the coffee. Evidently she didn’t even think Catra had even that amount of decency left in her.

Not that Catra blamed her. Not anymore.

So she just gave a nod, and turned away; not caring to listen to the ache inside of her, not when she knew it was her own fault. 

* * *

She—she gave her coffee. It may seem stupid, it was so simple, so casually kind, but, that was entirely baffling.

Adora didn’t know what to do other than watch Catra walk away. It was a familiar sight, one she’d seen many times before, even if her hair was shorter now… even if… it felt different now, somehow. 

And yet, one of the memories, the worst one, came back to her mind.

******************

It was the fall in North Carolina, at Tryon International Equestrian Center. One of the newest shows in the States, but definitely one of the favorites. And definitely a great one to make your first Grand Prix win in. Which is exactly what Adora had just done. 

After the awards, and victory gallop, and plenty of praises by people she knew, people she didn’t know—Adora couldn’t help the permanent smile across her face, even as she caught glimpses of Catra and Weaver when she was leaving the ring. It’d been a rocky couple of years ever since she left, that was true, but it never stopped Adora from at least trying to keep the peace. No matter how many times Catra wouldn’t pull the punches, the snide comments and refusal to even just talk to her at times—Adora still saw the small smiles, still took to heart any moment Catra fell through that false bravado. So she gave one last smile aimed at Catra, sitting on a horse with her own awards from her second-place win draped over her neck, before Adora walked her mount, a big palomino mare named Legendary, back to the Brightmoon stable area. 

They’d fix things eventually. She knew that. At the moment, she could just be happy she finally achieved her first big goal ever since joining Brightmoon. A Grand Prix win, against big-name riders and who’d been around for years—decades—and she won it, at twenty years old. She was on the way to becoming that star Grand Prix rider she’d always dreamed of being. 

Bow, Glimmer and the rest of the Brightmoon crew left Adora to take care of Legendary—or Ari, as she called her. She always liked to just be alone with her horses after her rides. It calmed her, and helped her focus on the present—and not on the next big thing to conquer; something she’d grown up thinking she always needed to do. 

So after she was done washing off Ari, she wrapped the mare’s legs up for the night, and finally took off her helmet and jacket in the tack room. It was time to celebrate, time to have fun with everyone out at the show ground’s restaurant area, and enjoy an accomplishment, instead of being just relieved of getting it. Yeah, she still wasn’t quite there yet, but she was learning.

But before she could step two feet away from their stable area, she stopped in her tracks, startled to see Catra—Catra, with an odd look across her face, standing with her show jacket undone, her hair in a disheveled mess.

“Hey, Adora.” 

Those hazel and bright blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own; her voice quiet and… shaky. Adora frowned, completely confused with whatever this was, but… Catra was here… maybe she was starting to see that they didn’t need to be enemies. It’s not like they were in a real war or anything. It was just a game, after all.

“Hey… Catra.” Adora smiled, walking closer. “You know, you rode really great tonight—”

“Yeah. I did.” Catra cut her off; her voice sharp and short. “And you know what happened?”

Those eyes finally flashed to hers, a coldness there Adora didn’t recognize. 

“I didn’t beat the incredible, _inspirational_ Adora.” She spat. “And got nearly strangled for it this time.” 

Adora’s heartbeat raced, in fear, in anger, as she knew Catra wasn’t exaggerating; as she saw the red marks already there across her neck.

“Catra—” Adora breathed, tears coming to her eyes, but Catra’s face only turned into a storm of fire.

“Do you even know what happened that night that you first left? Do you know what it’s been like? Do you even care?” Catra trembled.

“Catra—I—of course I care—” Adora blinked, baffled, but Catra just stomped forward.

“Don’t you lie to me too!” She yelled, inches away from her now. “And it doesn’t matter—that’s not—I came here to tell you to watch out, Adora. I’m done with these little games. I’m done with you trying to talk to me like we’re still friends before every class—I’m done with you pretending you care!” 

That wildness to her voice, the way her whole body was shaking as she spoke, Adora didn’t know what to do—didn’t know how to calm her down.

“Catra, I—I _do_ care, I—why don’t you just leave them, we’re not kids anymore, come ride with us—come ride with _me_ —” She pleaded, swallowing as she glanced at Catra’s jaw, which was bruised too.

But Catra laughed—cackled, in a heartless, hurt way that clawed at Adora’s chest. 

“Yes, come ride with the reason I’ve been having to deal with the hell I’ve been having to for the last two years—my whole _life_ —all of this is _your_ fault.” 

Adora froze, eyes wide as Catra’s icy gaze locked her into place.

“I don’t _want_ your help—I don’t _want_ to ride with you—I’ve been getting better and better ever since you left. I might not have beat you tonight, but I was damn close, and I don’t have your precious royal family to help me by giving me any horse I want.” She jabbed, before taking a few heated breaths. “So I’m going to be winning soon. And I’m going to make sure I’m the one in charge of this place, all on my own.”

“Then why are you here?” Adora felt her breath collapse, all thoughts still spinning on the words _‘your fault’_. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Catra’s lip curled, her face distorted into a look that was beyond anger, that familiar mask breaking into a new mold, one more vicious and cold than Adora had ever witnessed. And yet one that could never hide that hurt, that tremble to Catra’s brow, those tears that always gave it away.

“Because I’m done with you trying to always pretend like we can just fix everything. We _can’t_ Adora. _You_ left, and you left me to _her—_ ” She choked, tears taking up her face. 

Adora was shaking now, everything inside her screaming in confusion and pain, everything in her both wanting to just hold Catra and tell her she’d get her out of there—tell her she knew she didn’t mean any of this, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything but feel her chest squeeze in pain.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore.” Catra’s voice finally steadied, her words sharper than ever. “ _You_ don’t matter. I don’t _want_ to be your friend, I don’t want to be your _anything_. I’m going to become everything I should’ve been if you had just never existed.”

Adora couldn’t breathe. Her heart stammered, and then she choked out a gasp, as if Catra hit her with a hidden dagger in a parlay—jabbing Adora where she didn’t even know she needed to block. 

She didn’t know how long she’d stared into the ground, as if expecting to bleed out right then and there. But finally, she looked up to see Catra doing the same, all her anger coming out in the tears falling down her cheeks. 

Maybe it was still a mask, maybe these were just empty misdirections, but they’d finally hit Adora in a spot she couldn’t deflect. And Adora realized she couldn’t do anything about it. The pain Catra was in, the pain she was throwing out to Adora—she couldn’t be the one to heal it.

She wasn’t sure what hurt more. 

But as Catra began to turn away, she knew what she needed to do.

“You know what Catra, you’re wrong.” She breathed, and Catra paused, even if she didn’t turn back around. 

“I didn’t do any of this to you.” Adora continued to keep her voice steady, even with the breaking pieces inside of her. “I’m the one who wanted to help you. Who kept trying to make this right. Who kept believing in you. Who _cared_ about you—” She shook her head, tears falling now, “I’m done giving you a way out. I’m done taking the blame—I’m done with _everything_.”

Catra’s hands twitched from beside her, but then walked away into the night, without a single look back. 

Adora ran back to her horse’s stall, collapsing, falling into the shavings beside her mare, the feeling of everything she’d been trying so hard to keep together just slip and fall and crash; and worse, there was a splintering inside she didn’t understand, a breaking that hit her to her core. 

Any hope now for this to be fixed; this foolish idea she’d held onto these past two years—that was gone. But what hurt worse was the sudden realization; she’d never imagined a life without Catra in it. 

But Catra dreamed of a life without her. 

**********

Adora stood there, frozen in space and time, still standing there beneath the tent, still holding the given coffee cup in hand. But Catra was already gone. 

It didn’t matter, did it? What would Adora have said? What did Adora _want_ to say?

 _It didn’t matter,_ she repeated to herself. She’d never have what she wanted, because what she wanted so painfully didn’t want her. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Any comments/kudos are very much appreciated!
> 
> Annddddd I'm sorry for throwing that angst dumpster fire of punch there at the end, but....well, it's catradora ahAH


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